Catacomb of Cruel Collections
by Deese-Rouge-Cheveux
Summary: Hermione gets lost in the dungeons, which seem more like catacombs as she gets further tangled beneath Hogwarts. Is it fortunate or unfortunate that she stumbles across Draco Malfoy? Past midnight? When she has no protection but her dirty, halfbroken wand


AN: I was suspended from for using Moulin Rouge lyrics in a songfic. Story #1 in rebellion to this.

Summary: Hermione gets lost in the dungeons, which seem more like catacombs as she gets further tangled beneath Hogwarts. Is it fortunate or unfortunate that she stumbles across Draco Malfoy? Past midnight? When she has no protection but her dirty, half-broken wand? When she is lost? When she is vulnerable?

Warnings: violence, sex, but it's all consensual I assure you.

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_Catacomb of Cruel Collections_

Hermione Granger pulled her puffy hair away from her face as she turned another corner in the maze of corridors in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As she patrolled to complete requirements of her Prefectoral Duties, she slowly counted her steps. Usually, it would take her two hundred and sixty-one normal, walking steps to finish a moderately long hallway. When she got tired, as the hours grew later into the evening, she noticed her feet slowing, her sluggish movements turning downward in direction.

She almost didn't notice how every turn she made now, was in a general sloping, descending course. The torches slowly changed from bright gold, majestically carved bearers of light to an eerie bronze, a decaying color with sharply knifed out incisions.

Hermione had often patrolled in the night, looking for lost students or tomfoolery behind tapestries and the like. After a month's worth of the same thing every Tuesday night, she began to lack in her alertness. She got used to her routine, up and down and then back up, left to right, reaching the East Towers before promptly spinning around and returning to her rooms by 2 a.m.

Tonight, Hermione fingered her wand as she reached a dead-end. Where was she?

"_Lumos_," she hissed. Realizing, too, that the torches were barely even lit here, she looked around to try to figure her way out of this maze. The glowing light erupted from her wand, before dimming to fit the surroundings. _I must be in the dungeons_, she foggily thought. In the distance, she could here a dripping of water. It was quite unnerving.

She looked behind her and realized that she was in a catacomb of tunnels, and Hermione suddenly understood that she had no clue where she was or how to get back up to the main levels of the castle. "Shit," she whispered harshly, before reaching towards the wall in front of her.

"Well, I guess there's no point in extreme quiet," she said just barely above a whisper. "If I remember correctly… Deep dungeons of the castle are often punctuated with secret passages into bright, warm quarters for sleep and rest. This is why the wizard Hibberwood gratefully took his banishment into the catacombs beneath Paris. He could live under there for years, and did until the public forgot about him and he reemerged back into the sixteenth century…"

It was rubbish, Hermione was talking to _herself_. But somehow it helped ease her fears, it helped her to relax and not go into a full-out panic attack. She fumbled towards the wall, knocking at the stones for a hollow spot. Upon finding one, she pulled the stone away and sighed in relief when the wall gave way.

Alas, it was more hallways, but at least they were better lit. Sort of. She mentally prepared for a long trip, and let her mind drift a little. It was the end of her sixth year, and Harry had not been the easiest to be friends with—but she understood his gripes against the world. And Ron was still as hotheaded as ever, but the two of them had come to some sort of an understanding. Hermione and Ron were to attempt civility when one of them tried to pick a fight. On the other hand, Ron and Harry were getting closer to each other. It left Hermione often feeling left out, and she cursed the fact that she had to return to the Girls' Chambers when Harry and Ron got the fun and ease of the Boys' side.

She kicked at a fallen pebble, before turning again. She had begun to explain this to Ron and Harry, over their futile game of Wizard's Chess. Unfortunately, they were consumed by the barbaric little pieces and Ginny interrupted asking for Hermione's advice on her "troubles of the heart." So, Hermione had nothing to do but concentrate fully on her studies and being a good friend when she could be.

With a startling clatter, Hermione found that she had dropped her wand. Picking it up and flapping it to get off the sludge and dust, the wand made a "put-put" noise before slowly dying out. "Fine, I don't need you anymore _anyways_," Hermione snarled quietly. She tucked the drained wand into her robe pocket.

The solitude of the tunnels beneath Hogwarts was starting to ebb at her mind now. She always checked the time by a charmed scrap of parchment in her pocket. Tonight, the paper read back to her '_You've outdone yourself on Patrolling tonight. GET BACK TO BED NOW! 2:31a.m., April 24'_. Hermione rolled her eyes and shoved the paper back into her robe next to her wand. Deftly, she reached for the stone wall next to her, and grabbed at the nearest loose stone. Nothing happened. Growling, Hermione decided that this must be the path she was doomed to for tonight.

"I'll find my way back soon, I'm not lost. This is Hogwarts, Hermione, old gal…" she said quietly, before her voice twisted out a nervous laugh. It sounded false to her ears as it echoed eerily off the walls.

"Shit. Fine, I admit it. I, Hermione Anne Granger, am stuck in the catacomb-like dungeons. I am _lost_," she cried out. The peculiar effect the stale silence had on her voice piqued her fear once again. "Oh, bloody hell!"

She stomped forward down the corridor; it was all she could do. Despite her best protestations, her body stubbornly kept up the adrenaline rush of her heartbeat and sweaty palms. She stumbled on a loose floor piece, and found the tunnel descending more. Unfortunately, it was also watery. She splashed at the water she just fell into, and her body admitted its defeat as hot tears stung her cheeks.

She sat up, in the shallow water; she had luckily fallen into it when the pathway was still lightly descending—it came up past her bottom but no further. She faced away from the water, trying to convince herself that she wasn't really here. Stuck. With no where to go. Without Apparating license or powers.

She silently cried, tears dripping off her face, but stopped abruptly when she noticed the torches flicker oddly. A silhouette stood at the end of the hallway she had just traveled down. Stunned at the presence of another being, she sat still in the water; her tears shocked enough to stop rolling down her cheeks. She was confused, and afraid it might be someone out to kill her or something— the fear had clogged up her logical, reasoning mind. After pausing for a few seconds, she realized if it was indeed The Typical Villainous Bad Guy Out to Kill Hermione in this horror movie of a night, he or she had already seen Hermione. Hell, she was stuck down here anyway.

"Hello?" Hermione called tentatively as the figure made its slow, sauntering way down the tunnel.

"I see you've found your place, where you belong," an all-too-familiar voice sneered, "miserably condemned and waiting to die, in the pits of these here catacombs." He cackled. The sheen of his platinum hair was too much for Hermione.

She scrambled up off her arse, and stormed up the few feet between them. "Malfoy, shove it and help me out of here."

"And why should I?" Draco hissed, staring boldly into her eyes. Hermione shivered at his piercing gaze, his slate grey eyes boring into her soul, tearing her apart mentally.

"Because, as Gryffindor Prefect, I believe I have a duty to the school and if I get lost, and… die... They will track me down and know you were here." It didn't even make sense to her. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Because, when I get out of here, Malfoy, I swear to Merlin that I will report you to the school, the ministry, and the press. I'll say that you led me down here and trapped me. That you… you left me to die."

"You wouldn't dare, fucking Mudblood," he laughed to her face.

"Don't you start with me, you prissy little prat," Hermione shouted, outraged. In an instant, she was pinned against the wall. She smiled ruefully, mouthing off more. "Daddy always gave you everything, didn't he? Can't stand that he wasn't fucking perfect? That he was caught? That his soul is nearly sucked out? That he's just _waiting_ to die?"

Hermione immediately realized the harshness of her words. He slammed her back again, and her head whip lashed back into the stone. Something flashed behind his eyes, and he let go of her arms, deciding his hands were better placed right behind her shoulders, on the wall. Still trapping, but giving Hermione the freedom she needed to feel the back of her head. She pulled her hand back in front of her face. It was covered in blood.

"Malfoy, you've injured me," Hermione said mechanically, reaching back again. He decided to pin his hands back on her arms; the one arm still angled back, fire burning behind his eyes.

"And you haven't injured me? You shouldn't be fucking with the pure, you dirty whore," he spat. He grabbed her arms more firmly. "Year after fucking year, I've had to step back because the little Wonder Trio has priority at this school. I haven't been working my arse off in school? No, that's right—Draco Malfoy has done exceptionally… Oh, but look at the poor oppressed Mudblood! She's just as good, but she must be better to have overcome such _odds_. It's bullshit, and you know it!"

"What the hell? Malfoy, you know that's not what you care about," Hermione retorted.

There was silence. The dripping water echoed in the distance.

"Oh, really?" he questioned with a brass voice, hard and rusty. "Then tell me, Mudblood, what does Draco Malfoy care about?"

"I... I don't know, but you don't care about grades!" Hermione fumbled, but the indignity she felt lingered, as she shouted, "You care about fucking up other people's lives, you care about making the minority feel like shit, you care about making little girls cry… You care about being Mr. Fucking Evil, you care about your bloody looks, you're just so incredibly vain and conceited!"

It all came out in a rush, and when she finished, Draco hit her across the face. She yelped and pushed him backwards, her palms incensed that she hit his broad, flat chest and he barely took a step or two backward.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about me like you know who I am," he growled, tackling Hermione's waist and pummeling her to the ground.

He straddled her waist as she fought back, but he was too strong; Draco had already pinned her down so she couldn't escape. She bit her lip to calm down her emotions—she didn't want to cry before the beast, but it would be just her luck if her eyes betrayed her.

"I'm scared now," she taunted, eyes narrowing to bore his silvery orbs. "What're you going to do? Kill me? I'd like to see you try."

Draco grunted and slapped her again, before muttering, "Learn your place… Mudblood…"

Hermione groaned as she felt the sting of her cheek and the surge of anger in her chest, she bucked upward, and successfully butted Malfoy in the head. He lost balance, shocked, and Hermione broke free of his capture. She quickly swiped the blood from her lips, as he rubbed at the bruise forming on his forehead.

"No, it's time for you to learn yours," she hissed, lunging for him. This was decidedly a bad move; she really should have just backed off and run away to try and find her own way out of the dank setting. But it was too late once she was midway through her engagement toward his body.

He braced himself and they toppled over each other, tumbling into the shallow puddles of water. Hermione reached upward and yanked at Draco's loose, wet hair, but he had the upper hand as his reflexes kicked in. He kicked out his leg and swept the ground, knocking Hermione's weak support from under her. She clattered and splashed into the water.

"You bloody wench," he heaved, grabbing her shoulders roughly. She stared up at him through her wet tresses, arms paralyzed mid-grab. A new look entered their eyes, as Draco suddenly swooped down and crashed his lips to hers.

She could only kneel in the water, shocked and still. He shook her shoulders and brought them closer to his body, pushing her warm body into his embrace. Before she could react properly (ie: screaming, thumping at his chest, kicking him in crude places, and so on…), Hermione found her eyes fluttering shut and her body reacting on instinct. Draco stumbled and pulled her robe off, it was sopping wet and weighing them down.

"You dirty bastard," Hermione shot harshly, barely comprehending that both of their white oxfords were transparent, and stained with blood—the same and equally suiting them both. She reached out a hand and struck him violently, before she pulled her hair out of her face. He put his hand up to his cheek, staring blankly back at Hermione.

She started forward and pulled his face toward hers as she crumbled into the two-foot high waters; Draco fell on top of her and the smack of the water parting was deafening. They tangoed passionately, limbs and tongues intertwined, heavily breathing and gasping for air.

Draco pulled away at the buttons on her shirt, frantically, his forehead touching hers as they both looked down. He snapped the rest of the buttons off to reveal pure skin and smirked in satisfaction, "You slutty little whore."

She grinned and pulled his shirt over his head before collapsing into his kisses, his roaming hands, his hot, wet body against hers. Hermione stared upward and gasped as she searched the ceilings, arching her back up to Draco before looking down and capturing him in another heated kiss. Their tongues swirled around in delight before she pulled back and Draco bit at her lip, drawing blood.

Draco stared intently into her eyes before taking a hold of her small body and pulling it up to him. He stripped off the rest of their clothes.

They rolled over in the dimly lit waters, both naked and fierce.

"Tell me that you hate me," Hermione breathed into his lips as she wrapped her legs around him.

"I fucking hate you, I hate your lineage, I hate your body, I hate your mind, I hate everything about you," he said and violently pushed her downwards into the stone floors covered in water.

She could only mouth her pain into the empty tunnels as he took her.

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Thanks for reading! Reviews (with critique or praise) are **greatly** appreciated! 

dcr


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